CarnEvil
by Afleet'32
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Anna is on a field trip when she and her teacher somehow are whisked to the carnival of horrors itself, ten years after the events of the video game take place. It will take everything they have to escape...
1. Hide and Seek

**CarnEvil**

**Pride. Wrath. Gluttony. Lust. Sloth. Greed. Envy.**

_Chapter One_

_Hide and Seek_

We arrived in the cemetery around four o'clock, stepping off the grumbling school bus into the crisp fall air. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, pulled my hat further over my ears, and blew into my gloved hands.

"Are you alright?" My teacher, Mr. Cainson asked. His dark eyes were full of concern.

I stared up at him and nodded. "Yes," I said, bending my head again so my hair fell like a curtain over my face.  
"Good," he said, patting my shoulder gently and walking with me toward the slabs of gray stone.

My classmates followed behind us, walking amongst the bare trees and chattering about what they were doing over the weekend. This field trip held no significance for them. I blew on my hands again, which were steadily growing colder. White puffs of breath followed me as I walked over rocks and stepped into leaves. My father was not buried here, I remembered, but the memories were strong.  
The field trip was to a cemetery in order to learn about urban legends. Why we had chosen this particular one, I had no idea, but my teacher directed the trip every year. I had my doubts as soon as the school bus had passed through the tall gates atop which read in spiraling letters "Griswoldrian Family Cemetery Est. 1767."

In bed this morning I had thought of pretending to be sick and spending the rest of the day reading safely indoors, but the sun was out and I realized that countless other classes had gone on this trip, done research on an urban legend, and come home safely. They had touched graves, looked at them, and walked among the spirits of the dead in this old part of the woods surrounded by rock fences. They had come home alive and happy.

Here I was today, fourteen years old and I clung to Mr. Cainson like I needed him. Perhaps it was not the crumbling stone that faltered my steps, but my own inhuman grief. Perhaps sometimes a deep hole dug by sadness was avoided by bolting in fear. Death was simply one of those things that I couldn't help but to shy from.

My friends followed close behind me as I took my hesitant steps into the cemetery, then diverged off their different ways. My teacher stayed by my side.

I stopped walking abruptly. There in the leaves was a tombstone almost as tall as me. A poem was etched in the stone and atop it was a sneering gargoyle. "_Ludwig Von Tökkentakker, 1898_," I read aloud. "_An owner of a carnival who gathered many players who perhaps was never killed but stole the souls of his slayers_."

I flinched and pulled my hat down over my ears again as a blast of wind picked up the leaves and made them swirl in the air. Such a sight I always thought was beautiful. Now, I shivered.  
"Anna," Mr. Cainson said gently. "I wouldn't take the words literally. The poem was probably a joke...there are several legends surrounding Ludwig Von Tokkentakker and more than likely someone long after his death put an epitaph on his grave based on those legends. There are photos of his grave and when it was new there was no writing on it. It was simply put there to frighten people into believing silly stories."

I touched it with a finger and jerked my hand away. "It seems old to me," I muttered.  
I turned away to find something less scary when the shine of something caught my eye. There-partially covered by dry leaves. I walked toward it without thinking, taking my hands out of my pockets to cup the thing in my palms.

"A golden coin," I whispered. Barely readable were the words _Admit One to Carnival._ Instantly I glanced around, my eyes searching for the grave. On the tombstone lay a round indentation; as though someone had taken a large hammer and pushed the stone back an inch or so. Perhaps that coin belonged in there...?

"I think someone took this off the grave," I said, turning the coin over in my hand as I walked back. "It's heavy and I don't think it's been disturbed in some time."  
"Let me see," he said, his hand extended to me. I put the coin in his hand and he looked it over, staring at the front and back. "Yes, this belongs here," he said. "There's a story about it, but...I can't quite remember. Something about a carnival coming into town when the coin is in its rightful place?"

"Should I?" I asked, taking the coin and pushing it into its indentation. We waited for an instant, my heart throbbing. Nothing happened.


	2. Where are we? What the hell is going on?

**_Chapter Two_**

_Where are we? What the hell is going on?_

"I'm for getting out of here," I said, shaking, as the sun went behind a cloud and cast strange shadows on the grave. Mr. Cainson shivered as well. We turned around and I began thinking rapidly about what I was going to write when suddenly high-pitched laughter echoed behind us. I whirled around.

"Mr.-Mr.-" I stuttered, tugging on his arm.  
"What is it?" He asked.

I realized that it wasn't a gargoyle on the top of the stone, it was a jester. A skeletal face staring at me with red eyes and sticking out its tongue...  
A hand closed on my wrist and I jumped around with a cry.

"Don't move. Close your eyes," a voice hissed.  
I stood rigid and closed my eyes as tightly as I could.

"Open them..."  
I felt my eyelids lifting though I didn't want to. It was as though something was summoning them against their will. Around my wrist were wrapped long, white fingers. I followed the purple-and-gold silken shirtsleeves up till I met the face of the jester on the tombstone. It was even more horrifying in person...his face was pale, like shining smooth stone, with large eyes. His pupils were black and took up most of his eyes, and which flashed red as I stared, open-mouthed. His nose was long and pointed and his thin lips were bared in a wide grin, revealing long teeth which almost seemed sharp. A purple hat with arching pieces and bells topped his crown.

Without meaning to I tried to pull away, but the jester chuckled and pulled me back. "Welcome," he hissed.  
"To what?" I whispered back fearfully. I tried to turn my head but the jester's cold hand cupped my chin and turned me back.

"CarnEvil," he said, and laughed in his high voice. "Come see freaks, magic, animals, and of course...the best part..." He lowered his face so his eyes stared into my own. "_Me._"  
I shuddered and turned away, jerking my wrist and trying to get out of his grip, to run. Where? Somewhere, anywhere...but the jester held fast and he pulled my arm up in the air. A stinging ran down my arm and my knees buckled with a gasp I couldn't control.

"I wouldn't try that again," he sneered, "if I were you."  
He pulled on me again and I struggled to my feet. "Where's Mr. Cainson?" I demanded.  
The jester smiled once more and pointed off to my left.

I followed his thin white finger and cried aloud, clawing at the jester holding me. "Let him go!" I cried angrily. "_Let him go!_" I struggled to remember where the rest of the class was, and prayed they would be left untouched by whatever was happening here.

My young teacher had his arms bound and a knife was at his throat. "Stop-don't worry about me," he said calmly, with a smile. "You need all your concentration and an abundance of wit about you now. Don't spend your energy worrying about what I am going through."

I shook my head. "No, no..." I struggled, pushing against the jester's grip, but he simply jerked me back to him. "Please..." I begged. "Let me go to him!"  
Two ugly men held my wonderful teacher to them. Neither wore shirts but had tattoos all over their grimy chests. One of the men gripped the back of his neck (his dirty fingers wreathed in his long dark hair) and the other held him by the back of his shirt and pointed a jagged blade at his neck. His head was pulled back and up which seemed to me extremely painful.

The jester relaxed his hold for an instant and I bolted without waiting for permission, racing toward Mr. Cainson and away from the frightening figure that had held me in his grip. I threw my arms around my teacher's waist, ignoring the huge men on either side of him. I couldn't stand to see his face, his eyes scared and sad, so I buried my face in his shirt. I prayed my tears would not leave wet streaks. Someone unwrapped my hands from Mr. Cainson and pulled me away. I struggled.

"You can't do this!" I howled. Now I was embarrassed that everyone could see me crying…a sign of weakness in me. I kicked in the air at whoever held me back. I couldn't move my arms and I pulled and pulled. "You can't do this!"

"Stop it, Anna," Mr. Cainson said softly. "Let it be."

"No! I won't let you get hurt," I cried. "I won't let them. I won't." I reached for him but the hands around my wrists stopped them in midair.

They led him away from me and I yelled out, but there was no answer.


	3. This Can't be Happening

**_Chapter Three_**

_Spin me round again and rub my eyes_

_This can't be happening_

For the first time my vision was clear and I was able to look around at where I had come. Night had fallen in an instant. It was dark and woods fringed the clearing where we stood-if I ran, I thought with a shudder, I would probably not survive long in the forest. The trees were bare, and the November evening was already cold enough to cause me to shiver. I had nothing with me to hunt or any idea how to survive.

Ahead, I noted grimly, stood tents held down with rope-their silhouettes were black in front of the setting sun. A roller coaster framed the scene in silhouette. Soon it would be perfectly dark. I heard eerie music and laughter from the distance-I listened for screaming but heard none. _  
Good,_ I thought. _Either there's nothing going on here or they mask it well. I don't know which I prefer..._  
Strong hands gripped my arms at the shoulders and steered me toward the Carnival. I planted my feet and clenched my fists, but a sound kick to my ankles and I was walking. Would it really take such little force to make me do what they wanted me to do? I wondered who was holding me. Hopefully it was not the creepy jester… Hopefully once we were in those lit tents we'd find a normal-looking carnival and some people who could help us...I shut my eyes tightly. _No, _my mind whimpered._ Everything cannot be all right when your teacher was just kidnapped and you vanish out of the cemetery into a place that doesn't exist..._  
I turned around to see the face of my captor. The jester, white-faced, grinning at me with wide bloody eyes and sharp teeth. I quickly turned my head again, staring at the carnival with wide eyes. A sign overhead—on a black iron gate-with large yellow letters, dripping blood, read "_CarnEvil_." I swallowed and felt my heart begin to race as we passed beneath it.

"Are you scared?" The jester crooned.  
"No," I whispered back.  
"I don't believe you," he hissed. I could feel cool breath on the back of my neck. He gripped my shoulders and pushed me forward roughly.  
"I'm not afraid of you," I said again, my voice jostled and loud. I was too angry and upset to be afraid, and though I was trembling I believed my words. I looked the jester in the eye and then looked up at his purple and gold jester hat.  
"You are afraid that something is going to happen to you or that teacher of yours," he said, steering me to the right, onto a path made by tents like at the county fair. In front of a few stood some carnival workers, looking dirty and all eying me as some kind of prize. My mouth dropped a bit as I saw them. Women waited with their stringy hair tied up messily. They were scantily clad-hardly wearing anything but tight corsets and full striped skirts greasy and ripped at the hems. Their eyes were rimmed with smeared black makeup and their pouted lips were dark as though with black lipstick.  
_Not like mine_, I thought urgently as we passed a mirror leaning against a tent. My face was so pale it seemed yellow. My eyes were dull and stained red from crying, but my brow was furrowed. My lips were thin and pale as well, pursed as I had clenched my jaw and refused to reply to the jester standing behind me. _A little too closely, _I noticed in disgust at the skeletal figure curving over me, overpowering my reflection. And while I was pale he was white as marble. His grin made me nauseous, as did his spidery white hands on my arms.

"What's your name?" The jester hissed in my ear.

At first I wanted not to answer, but something inside knew it wouldn't harm me. "Anna," I said in a low voice.

I walked where he wanted, past fat men with dirty, ripped pants and tattoos, men with one eye or one arm, men who sneered at me through beards and from stilts, but all who seemed...unfriendly. Not cold, but who looked at me as though I were something they wanted to cut up and eat. I imagined that's exactly what they wanted to do when I arrived to wherever I was going...the mystery cleared when the jester steered me toward one of the tents and pushed me inside.  
"Why am I here?" I demanded once he let go. The tent was well-lit and the ground was covered in dirty furs and oriental rugs.  
"You brought yourself here," the jester said. There was that eerie smile again. "And I must say," he added, picking a candle from the chandelier above my head. "You'll make an excellent addition to our carnival."  
"I didn't bring myself here," I said, stepping back as he advanced with the candle.  
"You put a token in the grave and brought our carnival to life?" He asked in his high pitched voice.  
"Yes..." I whispered.  
"Then you came to us intending to be a part of it," he hissed. In an instant his hand was over my mouth. It was so quick I couldn't scream, but my hands flew up to protect my face. "You're one of us..." he hissed, letting the hot wax drip onto my wrist.

I yelped as the place flared and burned like a flash of light.

"You're trapped like a _rat_ with no chance of escape…" Umlaut's voice was sickening.

My eyes squeezed shut as the burning grew and grew and another icy pain bit into my arm. I pulled on my arm, unconscious that the jester had gripped my wrists together. When I opened my eyes, I saw a bloody skull burned into my arm.  
The jester let go and I dropped to my knees, realized my face was wet and tried to wipe it.

"Why would you do that?" I begged. The image of the tent was growing blurry as I felt sick with pain I had never felt before.  
"I was marking you," he said. "The same shall be done to your...teacher."  
I groaned again, holding my arm as though I was branded, and I think that I was.  
"I could show you some magic," he said, snapping his fingers. "Stand." I rose to my feet more of my own free will than I cared to admit. Still holding my arm, I looked down where he had changed me from my winter coat, scarf, jeans, and boots to a lacy white gown-it seemed to be a nightgown. The sleeves only reached my elbows but the skirt to the floor, and the white was so moldy and dusty that it seemed to be gray-brown instead.  
"How?" I asked, more out of fear of what he could do to me than in amazement of what he could do.  
"I said 'magic,'" he replied.  
"I heard you," I said.  
Neither of us moved. I, too afraid of being tricked or magicked, and he to be sure _I _could not escape.  
"I'll take you to your teacher now," he sneered, and led me by the wrist out again.

I wanted to say 'thank you,' but didn't think he really deserved my gratitude.

He threw me in a cell. A cell in a building that was likely once a barn...I couldn't see properly in the darkness to be sure. And just to be clear, I walked of my own strength till we reached my cell, in which the jester pried open the door and threw me to the ground. The dirt floor was hard to land on and the hay which was generously provided in heaps poked my skin through the holey dress.

"Have sweet dreams," he laughed, and slammed the door shut again. "We'll have more fun tomorrow!"

I slammed my bloody fist into the floor.

"Anna?" A voice whispered from the corner, and I wheeled round.  
Mr. Cainson lay on his back, his chin lifted and his eyes on me. His long black hair stuck to his forehead and I made myself believe it was sweat, not blood that made it so.  
"Mr. Cainson," I said, and crawled to him. I sat next to him and rested my head against the wall, feeling more like a child than ever next to the tall man. His coat he had laid beneath his head like a blanket. His button-down shirt was torn and crushed at the collar where the men had held him. His black hair nearly reached his shoulders and I longed to smooth it back for him but my hands remained in my lap.  
"Did they do it to you too?" He asked, holding up his arm.  
I nodded, turning mine over where the blood was just beginning to dry.  
"Did you cry?" He whispered, folding his fingers around the wound.

An odd question... I could tell it took a lot of effort. His lips were split and bleeding. It seemed cruel of me to make him talk...I noticed a bruise was forming on his face. He held his wrist carefully, as though it was sprained, or even broken.  
"I don't know," I said tightly, clenching my jaw to keep my bottom lip from quivering. "It hurt, a lot..." I winced at the memory, though the pain was now just a dull throb.  
"I know. How are you doing?" Those eyes still worried about me, about what pain I felt.  
"It doesn't matter," I said, my voice hard because I felt the tears welling up.  
"Yes, it does...please, tell me the truth."  
"I'm afraid for you," I said quietly. "But I don't want them to know."  
"Don't feel that way. We're safe, now. We got through. You see I'm alright, don't you?"  
He wasn't, though. What if a rib had broken and pierced his lung? What if they had hit him on the head so hard he would die of brain failure in the night? What of his wife, and children, who wouldn't know where he had gone? What of my family, already broken?  
I shook my head vigorously, feeling the familiar hot trembling as tears threatened to come. I stared at the ground, clenching and unclenching my fingers.

I made a little high-pitched sound as I started to cry.  
Strong hands wrapped themselves around me gently and a chin tucked itself over my head. I closed my eyes for a time and nestled myself into the warmth and comfort of a familiar, fatherly voice.  
"You are a strong little lady," he said softly. "You will get through this. I know you will. Why do you think you are here?"  
I hugged my teacher tightly, blinking tears of confusion.  
"You're a strange man," I told him, and when he laughed, I could see he was wincing from the blows dealt to him and that his voice was raspy. When I slept, I made myself an individual space in the straw but made sure I was close enough to hear my teacher's breathing. He slipped his coat under my head when he thought I was drifting off to sleep and rubbed my shoulders.  
"Sweet dreams," he whispered.


	4. Sinking Feeling

**_Chapter Four_**

_The dust has just begun to fall_

_Sinking feeling_

Awake, there was no escape from the darkness. No sunlight dared shine on this hell-place. The jester stood over me, smirking. Mr. Cainson was nowhere to be found.  
"Strange pair, you two," he said. "So protective and caring of each other, yet such an impossible coupling."  
"You don't know what it is," I spat at him from my sitting place on the ground. I was blushing. "He's a wonderful guardian, and friend."  
"Strange all the same," he said.  
"No more than you," I muttered under my breath, so barely spoken that I couldn't even hear it and I prayed he wouldn't, either.  
"You will begin to meet your fellows," he smiled. "While you are here you are one of us, as is why that skull is embalmed in your skin. .." he smirked and ran his fingers through a candle flame. "We do not take kindly to those who do not belong here."  
"Great. Then I'll make sure the thing stays on my arm," I snapped, in no mood to listen as he dragged me out of the cell and out to the carnival itself. His words really didn't make sense to me anyway...I had thought that as I and my teacher were strangers, we would be brutally killed...

"Oh, no," he giggled. "I like to watch you scream. You make it very entertaining."He reached as though to touch my hair and when I jerked my head away, I realized he had seized my long hair indeed and I had just about pulled it from its roots. _You think a teacher and student is strange? _I couldn't help thinking. The thought screamed itself to me as I gritted my teeth from the pain I dealt myself.

Into another tent we went, to meet the women. One was a fire-eater, one a lion tamer, one an acrobat, and one was a baton twirler. They stared at me through white makeup and black-rimmed eyes and shadowy-red lipstick. On their cheeks a dab of rouge stood out making them seem even more unearthly. Their hair was tied up in bunches on top of their heads-from the grime it was difficult to tell what color they were. I touched my own hair, glad of its cleanliness, although I did find some straw as I ran my fingers through.  
The women wore what I had seen the previous night-revealing clothing, most of it grimy and frayed.

"We must pick out something especially nice for you," the jester laughed, twirling a piece of my hair around his finger. He pushed me down into a chair in front of a mirror and the women gathered around me. Looking up at them in the mirror, I could tell they were not at all pleased to see me. One of the women in a black and red dress with raffia sticking out of her skirt began to tease the jester. She was trying to get his attention by fooling around with the bells on his hat-ringing them with her fingers and giggling.  
The jester was leaning over me, as I could see in the mirror, and with his hands parted my hair. "I want it...like this," he said quietly.  
Another woman bent over next to him and took my hair in her hands where he had parted it in two.

"Like this?" She asked him slowly, so he could see her tongue work the words in her mouth. She gripped my hair tightly and was holding it so that it was pulling at my scalp. I was sure it was on purpose, so I tried not to wince. She was leaning toward the jester so her breasts were practically falling out of her tight corset. For once, I was glad I was an underdeveloped fourteen-year-old and glanced down at my own flat chest. The woman gave a ferocious tug on my hair and shooed the jester away.  
"OUCH!" I cried, gripping the arms of the chair.  
"Oh, shut up," the woman snarled, slapping my hand viciously. She tugged on my hair some more, pulling it back and twining it around itself till it was off the back of my neck.  
"She looks older," the jester said with a small smile, and the woman scowled.  
"Aw, come on, Umlaut," one of the others said. "Why don't you ditch the kid and have some grown-up fun?" She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

_Disgusting.._. I thought to myself, in terms of the women and their romantic obsession with Umlaut, and then I saw the dress Umlaut had picked out for me to wear. I wrinkled my nose and one of the women scowled as Umlaut held the dress out to her and she threw it in my lap.  
"Get yourself dressed," she hissed.  
"Here?" I squeaked. "In front of..."  
"Oh, hell," she snapped, taking my wrist and tossing me behind a dressing stand. I knew _they_ had no modesty and would gladly strip off their scanty dresses in front of themselves and Umlaut, but I would not...

At first I thanked all that was goodness and heaven that the dress was _not_ like the other women carnival workers', but soon I was second-guessing myself. The skirt reached just to my knees but like everything else it was ripped, stained, and chewed (mice, I suspected) at the hems. Some of the rips were long and vicious-perhaps the girl who had worn this had been chased or grabbed by one of the creepy carnival workers, or Umlaut himself? The thought made me shiver. The skirt was a bit full. It hung off my hips. The top was more questionable-whether the black lace straps were to go over my shoulders or were meant to hang off them.

The dress was acceptable when I pulled the straps up but they were so long they simply fell off and hung on my arms. The top was tight-fitting. Black lace framed the low neckline where the dress dipped like a sideways B and was probably meant to show cleavage but alas, I had scarcely anything to show. And the strangest thing was while the other women often wore striped skirts or zigzag patterns, my dress had a pattern of diamonds-orange, gold, and purple diamonds. With a glance at Umlaut as I came out from behind the dressing stand, I noted with a shiver that I looked like I should match him.

The women were not happy, not at all. Their pouts became more pouty and their eyes were clouded, like I had won some favor they had not. I was only a child, barely, and they fully-grown women that actually _liked_ Umlaut and wanted to please him. I wanted to scream that I would be glad to leave, when one of the girls came forward and stuck a black feather in my hair.  
"That's just for shows," Umlaut said with a smirk, looking me up and down not just once but several times, and making me shiver uncomfortably.  
"Wha-what?" I asked, feeling my hand twitch.  
"When you perform, my dear."  
"Perform as what?" The question came out as a whisper. One of the women laughed and I blushed.  
He smiled once more. "You shall see."

They took the feather out of my hair and let it down again, but this time Umlaut magicked me. He took off my dress and left me in a towel, much to the amusement of the women. Then he changed me into a chicken suit, a bikini, a lion's skin, and finally the battered white nightgown. He called outside to one of the men to take me back to the cell, and when I turned to see where he was he had begun kissing one of the women and stroking another.

_Well, good for him,_ I thought to myself, furious that I had been treated like this by the women, as though they believed me competition. _I would never, ever, feel that way.  
_And I knew I wouldn't. It wasn't that I hated Umlaut-I hated when he hurt me and made me do things I didn't understand, but in the short time of knowing him I knew I just didn't care about him. If I had hated him, I would have feeling for him, but the anger and betrayal was so intense I knew that if he died in the night I wouldn't have cared. He was sick, deceitful, sadistic and_ always_, I noticed, hungry for something-the look was in his eyes as he stared me down in a mirror or real life. The hunger was what scared me, not being in this carnival of hell.  
"Oh, Hell!" I called once I was thrown again into the cell and Mr. Cainson awoke from a fitful sleep.

"You're too young to say that word," he yawned.  
"Hell is a place, not a swearword," I said. "And we're there. Didn't you see the signs outside?"

He chuckled and I smiled a genuine smile. It was the first since that frightful night...

_Goodness, was it only just last night?_


	5. Oh, You Won't Catch Me Around Here

**_Chapter Five_**

_Trains and sewing machines_

_Oh, you won't catch me around here_

That afternoon I stayed in the cell for a long time, thinking on all that happened earlier.

In the dim daylight (the sky was covered with black clouds even during the day), as I was walked back from the woman's tent, I had realized that where we were held was part of the Carnival's Haunted House. I got to see other parts of the Carnival too; I had looked around well as I was out in the daylight...for all I knew it would be the only chance I had to find out where the exit was. I was dragged back by a big strongman who grunted rather than talked. His face was puffy and I swore he only had one eye but it was squinted so it was hard to tell.  
I saw roller coasters, food stalls, and a huge sign for the Freak Show. I couldn't find the great CarnEvil gate that we had walked under the night before to get into the Carnival, but so long as I was here I _would_ find it. The tents that Umlaut and the women hung around were for Carnival workers-of course, for me and Mr. Cainson, it was prisoner accommodations.  
One tall thin man had leered at me while I was pulled by, and I had grimaced back at him.

It was these scenes that I replayed in my head while Mr. Cainson slept. That is, until someone banged on the bars of my cell and tossed a plate of food in. A bowl of soup followed.  
Mr. Cainson and I stared at the food, each of us famished. Finally he pushed the plate and bowl at me.  
"Before I change my mind," He muttered, and curled back up against the wall to resume his nap. I stared at the food thoughtfully.  
The soup looked like dirty water. On the plate was some dried meat and stiff, smelly bread that was likely about to start molding. I bit into it and chewed carefully. I was eating so slowly that I realized no matter what, my hunger would probably remain. The thought to leave the food alone was tempting, because it would probably do nothing, but I knew I needed nourishment. Something to sustain my mind and body and keep up the strength I had.

I sipped the soup by lifting the bowl to my lips. It wasn't bad-thin and bitter, with beans in it. I took a couple long sips and, before I could drain it all, I held it out to Mr. Cainson. "Here," I said. "I can't finish it." I pushed it against his elbow and he shook his head at me. My stomach gurgled.  
"Your lies will be the end of you," he warned, but took the food I offered him. I mulled his words over in my mind while I chewed some of the bread. Ironically, they were true...if I was really going to starve...  
He didn't finish the bowl, though. I wondered if he felt guilty stealing food from a child. _Well, he shouldn't,_ I thought. We were both hungry. And I had already eaten.  
Little by little we exchanged our food in silence, until nothing was left. I had a few threatening stomach pains in the night, which awoke me, but the cramps subsided by the time I awoke again in the morning. _Stupid stomach,_ I thought.

Luckily supper wasn't the only meal. A new bowl of soup and chunk of bread awaited us in the morning. With it came Umlaut and a couple of his Carnival men.  
"Come on," Umlaut said to us as we ate. I looked up between a handful and mouthful of bread. "Not you," he snapped, and pointed at my teacher. "Him."  
"What?" I asked, looking over. "Where are you going?"

Mr. Cainson abandoned his food and shrugged his coat on. "I'd rather not tell you."  
I started to snap back at him but he put himself into the arms of the men and, looking over his shoulder, gave me a look that silenced me. "Just pay attention," he said. "And make yourself useful." He paused, thinking, and bent his head to my ear. "Above all else, to thine own self be true," he whispered. Those were words from _Hamlet_, one of my favorite pieces of literature.

Then he was gone.  
I cocked my head, my gaze turning to Umlaut, who was left in the cell with me. "Wise words," he giggled in his high pitched voice.  
I stared at him. He was tall and thin and white-skinned, looking at me through his narrow eyes and a voracious smile.

That day, Umlaut took me on a tour of CarnEvil.  
"It's a labyrinth of places and things," Umlaut laughed. "If you try to escape you'll likely die first."  
There was a zoo of strange and frightening creatures...giant bugs and bats and mutants. There was a roller coaster which stretched around the carnival, but no one rode it because a guillotine was stationed on one of the drops and...well...people got hurt. Zombie teenagers served food, or stood around until someone summoned them. Umlaut made it a point to tell me that he thought they were pathetic.  
Other of his carnie henchmen were introduced to me. Lola, one of his girls, performed fire-breathing in the big top tent. Moachie was a hideous clown who I refused to go near, but Umlaut promised he wouldn't hurt me because he, Umlaut, was with me, and because I had the skull on my arm. With the two of them was a big guard named Larp. I recognized him from the night we arrived and gave him a suspicious look when he grinned at me.

The Carnival seemed to go for miles. "The undead," Umlaut said. "Never can leave us. They have a contract, you see, to the man, Ludwig Von Tökkentakker, who owned this original carnival. When men and women joined the carnival to work, they were promised immortality, but it was not the way they thought." He grinned. "So now they are trapped here forever."

"What happened to Tökkentakker?" I thought aloud.  
"He died," Umlaut said.  
"So he doesn't actually run the carnival anymore?"  
"No, his soul was not trapped like mine. He did his wicked deeds and was murdered. That is how the curse came to be."  
"Who killed him?" I asked.  
"Me," Umlaut replied, flashing his wicked, long teeth, and I shuddered, turning away.  
"Do-do the others know?" I asked, gritting my teeth. "That you created their curse?"  
Umlaut's face clouded and when he frowned he looked ugly and angry. "No," He hissed, taking my throat gently in his hand. "And you would do well not to repeat it." He released me once again and I took a step away. It took a moment to remember how to breathe, and I put a thin hand over my chest just so I could be sure my heart still was beating.

After the strange conversation we continued walking. Umlaut steered me by my shoulders and spoke as evenly as he had before, as if nothing had been revealed to me. Still I had a thousand questions and no way to answer them...I was too intimidated by Umlaut to dare incite his anger if I asked what was to become of me.

But...did this mean that I too would be cursed beyond eternity? Or was there a way out?

And why, if this was such a great secret, would he _tell _me?

When I looked up again, we stood in front of a dark blue house in shambles. It was the Haunted House, Umlaut's quarters.

With Umlaut holding fast to my arm, I followed him up the rickety wooden stairs to a great door. I stared back down the hill and around the yard. Tall yellow grasses filled the yard and wooden coffin-shaped boxes were strewn here and there.. An old death carriage was parked in the yard, next to a baby's carriage, which had been crudely painted black. A tall iron fence surrounded the property. The sharp spikes atop the fence were enough to inspire trespassers to stay away.

Umlaut pulled a rope by the door frame and a loud bell sounded from within. We waited in the still air. With no response, Umlaut gave an irritated sigh and seized the bronze door knocker, pounding several times on the wooden door. I noticed the scratches in the wood that seemed to be from axes or something with long, sharp claws around the edges of the door.

A skeletal butler peered through the crack in the door and Umlaut nodded to him.

"Good afternoon, Master," the butler said in breathy voice.

"Get out of my way," Umlaut snapped, his fingers squeezing my wrist hard and jerking me through the door and whipping me around to face him.  
Umlaut turned for a moment and the butler shut the door, locking it behind us. My knees felt weakened suddenly, as if they were about to quiver with fear. Queasiness filled my throat and stomach.

"Stay with me," Umlaut said sharply. "Any wanderings and I will have your teacher's head."

I stared at him through narrowed eyes, knowing that I could not wander anywhere with Umlaut's hand closed over my arm. He noticed my expression and his nails dug into my arm.

"Where are we going?" I asked him without thinking. As Umlaut walked, my thin legs got caught in my dress and I nearly tripped.

"You, Anna, are to have dinner with me." Umlaut turned back an instant to meet my eyes.

I blanched, thinking of Mr. Cainson alone in his cell, and did not respond.


	6. Ransom Notes Keep Falling Out Your Mouth

**_Chapter Six_**

_Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth_

_Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs_

We walked through corridors of musty red rugs and ancient wallpaper. Then the surroundings turned to gray stone, and the doors that guarded each room changed. From chipped, diseased wood and brass hinges came steel doors with firm thin handles and a round glass window to see inside. We must have been deep into the house, or at least into the part that mattered.

"Someday I will have this all reworked," Umlaut was saying in front of me, as if he knew I was thinking about the differences in architecture. "But till then…it works. For what I need."

Another skeleton butler stared at me with empty sockets as we passed, and I shivered. I could not imagine how I was to eat dinner with Umlaut's invitation when all I wanted to do was vomit. And a shame, too, because in my cell I had scarcely enough food to keep me from fainting on the spot.

Umlaut steered me into a large dining hall, laden with a feast. A crystal chandelier lit the interior of the room and threw bits of light off the polished, ornate table. I immediately counted ten chairs at the table, each a shining brown wood with blue velvet cushions. Umlaut led me to a chair and I sat, folding my sweating hands in my lap as he warned me about trying to run, and left the room.

I stared at my place. There were three forks, three spoons and two knives of silver next to a silver dinner plate, smaller plate, and bowl. And being around all this food certainly was reminding my body of how famished it was…I suddenly became aware of my weak legs and the emptiness in my stomach. I wanted to dive into the roasted pig, the apples, the bread… then I remembered Mr. Cainson and halted myself with a cold fury. I would certainly bring food back to him, so that he would not go hungry.

With a flash of gold, Umlaut appeared, whipping through the door in a maroon velvet dress coat and gold pants. He was not wearing a jester's hat and so I caught a glimpse for the first time of his white , bare head. He sat across the table from me, smirking without teeth, and I stared back, showing no emotion and certainly not the fear I held inside.

"Take some food, Anna," Umlaut said, pointing his fork at the banquet before us. His plate was already full.

Reluctantly I took a roll, a roasted apple, and a flank of meat from the pig. A turkey lay further along the table, and I took meat from that too, but before I could take a bite I said a silent prayer, and eyed the food suspiciously, trying to sense if it had been magicked in any way. Finally, I ate a piece of meat, and when nothing inauspicious happened to me I confirmed that it was safe.

"Now," Umlaut said. "I have a proposition for you. A sort of rare offer that many would not receive from me."

I was watching him as I chewed slowly, my face betraying nothing.

"I believe as a young woman and guest here, you should have more suitable lodgings than the, uh, less than hospitable conditions you currently dwell in. And I think, Anna, that we should find a use for you here. There are many ladies who would be willing to work with you and have you learn…"

"With all due respect, sir," I said sweetly, regretting instantly that I had interrupted him, "I plan not to leave my teacher, and I do not expect we shall be staying for any long amount of time." With my honesty, I felt my breath catch in my chest and my fingers begin to tremble. I touched the edge of my silver plate to steady them. And I stuffed the rest of my roll down my throat before I dared to look up at Umlaut.

His eyes, burning and still, fixed upon my face. "You refuse my generosity," he said, even looking down at my meager plate, and I burned with shame. "When others in your place would be torn to pieces." His hands on the table, he leaned toward me. "For the sake of an old man who would sooner die!" He snapped his fingers and the food disappeared, even as I had it in my hand. His frown grew into a sneer. "You forget, little girl, who holds the true power here." His fingers cupped my chin for a moment and he turned away, leaving me at the table with nothing but my own misery and disappointment.

One of Umlaut's guards took me back to my cell, dumping my limp body next to Mr. Cainson's. I moved not a muscle, and tried not to flinch as his stomach growled in his sleep and he clutched his cramped abdomen with his hands. I curled into a little comma and listened to him breathe, and wondered what I would tell him when I awoke.

"Anna?" Mr. Cainson whispered.

"Yes?" I breathed. It was dark. I couldn't see my teacher. I felt a cold hand cover mine and I lifted my head some.

"I just wanted to make sure you were here," he sighed, and with the rustling of hay I knew he'd laid back down.

"I'm here," I said quietly, and shut my eyes again.

When my dad died, and I had finally come back to school, Mr. Cainson came right over to my seat in the back of the class, even though everyone else ignored me. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes even though I had my head bent low and I was embarrassed. There came words I'd never forget: "If you need anything, even just to talk, you know you can come to me."

Like that, there was a bond that attached Mr. Cainson to me. I had someone who was sympathizing with me. He had come to be the protective and caring male figure in my life. He was just a man, and while he could never replace my father, of course, he seemed to understand just what I needed.

In the morning, I told him what I said to Umlaut. Rather than sigh and lean against the wall, Mr. Cainson shot up and stared at me in disbelief.

"You said what?" he asked. "You said _no?_"

I nodded and he grumbled, rubbing his forehead with a hand.

"And what, exactly, possessed you to deny the maniac something that might save your life?"

I opened my mouth, about to retort, but shut it again, and shrugged weakly. "I wanted to stay with you," I murmured.

Mr. Cainson sighed loudly and put his head down in his hands. "I'm fine…do you hear me? Fine! Dammit!" He looked at me again. "You need to tell him you changed your mind. You don't need to watch over me, alright?" His eyes softened. "Please. Trust me. Humor him. "

My chance came later that morning, as Umlaut passed by the cell door to wake us. I was absolutely terrified when I stumbled over my words and told Umlaut that I had _no idea_ what possessed me the night before, but I would love to accept his offer. I don't believe Umlaut knew the meaning of sarcasm, because I took a tone that made Mr. Cainson rub his temples and grit his teeth, yet Umlaut drank every word in. "I…am _SO_ very sorry," I said loudly, mock-bowing to the jester.

"Well. Lucky for you, I am in a forgiving mood," Umlaut replied. He unlocked the door and swung it open to let me out, but paused. "Tell me you are thankful to me, as I have forgiven you," he said.

"I'm thankful," I said.

"Again."

Confused, I faltered, turning back to Mr. Cainson. "I'm…thankful."

"Better," he said, watching me. "Let's go."

I waved good-bye to Mr. Cainson, who was shaking his head.

"You _are_ lucky, Anna," he murmured. "Lucky you didn't get eaten alive!"

I was taken to another tent. It was similar to the women's tent I had visited before, but only a couple girls were in it. Two were older than me, and one was young. Like me. Save for the makeup all over her face and her eyes, which appeared haunted in every way. She flinched as Umlaut opened the flap, and everything else about her posture revealed her as an obedient servant of Umlaut's.

Arabella was her name, Umlaut said, as I stayed standing quietly. She belonged to the carnival and to Umlaut's house. She kept fingering a wide metal band around her wrist. I looked the girl up and down, and down and up. She was not as thin as I was, but she was a small girl. Her eyes showed obedience, and curiosity clouded by fear. They were round blue eyes, while mine were thin and gray. Her very curly hair was dark, almost black, and was not kept up as she was not yet a woman. Instead she'd pulled back the top of her hair and left the rest around her shoulders. With a glance at my long brown hair, I noticed it was many shades lighter, almost a gray. Her mouth was small and round. Mine was long, set above a firm chin.

"My name is Arabella," she pronounced in a high clear voice. "I am a singer."

To this day, chills enter my body as I remember the words. I swear upon the Bible itself she had said, "I am a slave."

"ANNA!" Umlaut snarled.

"What?" I cried. I had become lost in thought looking at the girl.

"You are to sing with her."

I snorted. "I can't sing."

Umlaut narrowed his eyes.

"It-it's true," I said. "Not a note."

"Well, can you do _anything?_"

_Yes, I could._

"I can play the violin," I said.

"So be it," Umlaut hissed. "Play."

A violin appeared in my hands, and I closed my eyes and lost myself in the music.


End file.
